


Bombs on Monday

by TheWeepingAngelOfCas



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Soulmate AU, You get your soulmate's injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeepingAngelOfCas/pseuds/TheWeepingAngelOfCas
Summary: In a world where the injuries your soulmate gets end up on your own body, Light Yagami had never really had a problem with it. Sure, some days he would wake up with a paper cut or maybe even a few bruises, yet there was nothing. He'd go to high school, go home, and never have a clue of who his soulmate was.Heavily inspired by the song Bombs on Monday, hence the title.
Relationships: L/Yagami Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 157





	Bombs on Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Rated Mature for a lot of self harm. Pls be safe. Luv yall.

It had started when Light was only ten. Of course, he had gotten injuries because of his soul mate before. A few bruises, one time even a broken finger. 

Yet when he woke up with a stinging, screaming pain in his arm, his parents had given sobs of shock. On his arm, were lines upon lines of cuts.

It continued on throughout his life. It had began as maybe once a month, which slowly moved to once a week, and occasionally once a day. Of course, being afflicted with such an injury at such an early age had affected him greatly. Yet slowly, he accepted his fate. It did give him some form of anxiety to wonder if his life was going to be ended by his so called 'perfect match'. Yet luckily, that never happened.

By the time he was 17, his arms and thighs were littered with scars. Some were small, almost invisible on his skin. Others were so deep he had had to go to the hospital to get them stitched up. By the time he was 17, he had walked up to a strange notebook on his school's lawn, and became Kira.

And then, he met L.

L was a curious man indeed. He constantly slouched, never once straightening himself for any form of company. His eyes had a near perpetual state of tired fog, demonstrated by the large bags under them. His clothes were always loose and baggy.

Light had had a sneaking suspicion that the strange boy who had made it to ToHo with him was L. Even before he told him, there was always something about him that was too different to mean nothing. L's eyes appeared much more old and wise then they actually were. Every movement and action he took was perfectly calculated to benefit him or his cause in some way. 

And so, their games of cat and mouse began. 

To be honest, Light found it thrilling. The man was older, and possibly even more clever than him, and a lovely opponent in this fight for the new world. Every move Light made was fought with two. Every figurative punch L gave, Light would dodge. 

When Light was 18, he gave up ownership of the Death Note, and lost all memory of being Kira, and became handcuffed to L in an attempt to clear his filth marred name. During all this time, all his time behind bars, all his time before losing his memories, the scars and cuts continued with the same alarming frequency. Still continued the anxiety that his soul mate could be the death of him.

It was most certainly not a dark and stormy night when he finally found out who his soul mate was. 

It was actually quite pleasant. Light had been fast asleep in bed under his warm covers, when he had felt a slight tug at his wrist. His eyes opened slowly, already used to the handcuffs and chain pulling him around throughout the night. He blinked away the blurry sleep from his eyes, noticing the soft glow of the bathroom. The door was mostly closed, a crack being left open to account for the handcuffs. Light scooted closer to the side of the bed, giving L a bit more ability to move, and tried to go back to sleep.

The moment he closed his eyes, he was greeted a searing line of pain going across his wrist. In less than a moment, he was sitting up, pressing the bottom of his shirt to his arm to stop the bleeding. It was a deep one this time. Not deep enough to kill, no, but still worrying. He looked towards the light seeping from the bathroom door, the chain attached to his wrist moving ever so slightly. He had walked in on L before by accident before, and this was a bit more of an urgent matter. L would understand that this wasn't Light's doing, but his so-called 'other half's' intention.

He knocked once on the door, "Hey, L, I'm coming in. It's kinda urgent."

Another cut. Longer. Deeper. Even more painful. Light hissed at the feeling. He needed to clean the wounds. He wasn't going to wait.

He heard about a second of L's protest before opening the door. He forgot all about the pain radiating from his arm when his eyes saw the detective.

L was crouched on the ground, a razor blade to his wrist, about to cut another deep line next to the other two on his arm. There were old scars and half healed ones up and down his arms, disappearing into his sleeves. 

In a split second, Light was next to him, and L was staring up at him with those forever vigilant eyes. 

"Hello, Light."

"That's all you can say?!" Light cried, snatching the razor and throwing it into the sink, not caring that it cut the skin of his fingers, "Hello?! What are you doing?!"

L sighed, "Self harm. It's fairly obvious, is it not?"

Light wanted to scream. He could feel the blood dripping down his arms, and watch as L's cuts did the same. L was still crouched, expressionless.

"It would be nice if you would leave so I could continue."

Light wasn't even sure what to say. Fists clenched, he gritted through his teeth, "No! I'm not leaving you, you _bastard_..." His voice cracked at the last word, "How long have you been doing this?! How long?!"

L didn't even have to think about it. He answered within a second, "About 8 years."

Light grabbed his opponent's sleeve, trying to yank it up. This was when L actually gave a reaction. His hand met Light's wrist roughly, stopping him from pulling it up any further. Yet L's eyes widened when he felt Light's sticky blood coloring his fingers. 

He pulled Light's wrist so he could see it properly, examining the constellations of scars patterning his arm. 

"Oh." 

"That's it?!" Light was mad again, yanking his arm away so hard it hurt, "Show me your goddamn arm, _now_!"

L did, albeit slightly reluctantly. His sleeve revealed line after line of continuous scars. They ended at his forearm, yet he had the same amount on his other arm as well. L, of course, had always been a perfectionist. Light pulled up his own, and compared his arm to L's. It was a perfect match. He was willing to bet that L had the same scars on his thighs that he had.

L gave a small chuckle, "So, all of this is me?" His fingers ghosted down Light's arm.

Light lowered his head with a sigh, "Yeah. Since I was 10, you _ass_."

They both laughed at that. Then there was a moment of silence, before Light whispered, "I don't want you doing this anymore. You have me."

He had finally met his 'perfect match'. His 'other half'. 

L smiled weakly, nodding, "Alright. I'll try."


End file.
